Lost King of Eden
Decades long of scholarly research has finally bore fruit, and I have found the lost connection between God and mankind. The Garden of Eden written in Genesis was not allegory for the fall of man to original sin, nor even a story of the first man and first woman, but a historical account of the exiled King Adam. It was in Jerusalem where Adam ruled Eden, the very garden of God himself, and Adam was his humble gardener. But it sat under the heavy thumb of the Babylonian empire as a vassal state, and they demanded heavy tribute from Eden. Adam, in his arrogance, denied the empire its tribute, and the Babylonian king marched into Eden, setting the garden ablaze, as well as man's connection to God. But the time has come to restore that connection. A recent archaeological discovery unearthed the written words of a prophet of Judah; that the heir to Eden may recover Adam's crown from his resting place and reconnect God to his children. Of course, it also speaks of the Serpent of Stygia which rests in the tomb, guarding the crown. This very serpent may have inspired the writing of Samael, the serpent in the garden which tempted Eve. But I believe it to be a remnant of the snake cult that persisted as healers in the old Jerusalem temple, worshiping the great bronze serpent, Nehushtan. This worship must not have lasted after Moses's revelation of the commandments of the one true God. This prophecy by the man of Judah was dismissed as a mere museum piece by my more skeptical colleges, but I believed to have found the heir to Eden himself: A fellow believer named Eliot Ben-Hadad. He could see the handwriting of God, invisible to mortal eyes, which proved to me that he was the key to Adam's tomb. We made the necessary provisions before setting out on our journey toward the Ain Dara temple ruins in Syria, where our combined research pointed to be the aforementioned tomb. Lastly, before leaving the comfort of civilization, we said prayers - I in English and he in Hebrew. Our trip was made much less arduous than it may have been for the ancient peoples, thanks largely to our modern modes of transportation. Ain Dara seemed a desolate ruin in contrast to the verdant trees that dotted the desert around it like an apple farm. The blasted stone and clay showed hints of mighty cherub guardians and eroded reliefs of chimeras. We stood by the massive footprints left by Ishtar as she took her steps into her temple. There, Eliot received his first clue, revealed at the altar where the footprints lead. "The traveler is wearied from her journey. The king is a generous host," said Eliot. For myself, the second piece of the puzzle lay in the footprints. "A guest of high stature may have their feet washed after a long journey. I can only imagine a guest that could humble a king would be a goddess," I said. I pulled out my canteen and gave it to Eliot, motioning him to pour water over the footprints. He sprinkled over the one nearest the altar. Nothing. Then the first step. Still nothing. Finally, as he poured water over the two standing prints, dust flew out from under a single tile. It took our combined strength to remove the block, but there unveiled a secret passageway into an underground tunnel beneath the temple. Using a rope tied to a sturdy nail, embedded deep into solid earth, we climbed down into the pitch black tunnel. I tried lighting a flashlight, but to no avail. Eliot saw the message inscribed in the darkness. "Through faith alone can you find the light of God," he said. I was at a loss this time, but thankfully Eliot seemed to have this figured out all on his own. He apparently could see a trail leading through the tunnels. Eliot took my hand to guide me as he would a true and trusted friend. It was this moment I had never felt more honored to aid the future king in his quest for his crown - to lead mankind back to God. As my eyes adjusted to the blackness, it became clear this was no mere test of blundering in the dark, but an impossible labyrinth, filled with long passageways leading to more passageways, which in turn lead to nowhere. Even with the aid of artificial light, navigating it would prove to be impossible. Only the heir to Eden would know the way by the invisible trail of crumbs. At last on the other side, my flashlight suddenly lit as bright as if the batteries were freshly changed. We gasped at the what the light suddenly revealed. A massive statue of Asmodeus, each of the three heads with open mouths, indented with empty slots on their tongues. The serpentine head of a tail coiled around its body. The rough stone demon was dreadful to behold, yet even more so were the millennia old remains that surrounded the room. I surmised that these were in fact the very architects of the labyrinth that could not escape their own creation. About the walls were nine pedestals, each housing a tablet with a single word in ancient Assyrian text. I assisted in the translation and read them to Eliot. "Dove, Dragon, Earth, King, Library, Star, Sword, Tree, and Woman" I said. Eliot received his next instructions at the feet of the statue. "Asmodeus has three questions for the King of Eden," Eliot said. "The serpent shall act as messenger." "Touch its tail," I told him. He placed a hand on the serpent's head and spoke aloud the riddle it whispered to him. "The Bull inquires: Six points toward David. Five points toward Babylon. One point toward the heavens." It became clear to me that our goal was to find the correct tablet and place it into the empty slot of Asmodeus's bull head. "Are points in reference to a sword?" I asked. "Like a declaration of war between Jerusalem and Babylon?" "Or the Earth. Points in terms of places on a map," Eliot countered. "But how does that account for the 'point toward the heavens'?" I asked. It seemed like it should be simple, given our riddles have the answers laid out before us, and we need only pick the correct ones. Perhaps it was the anxiety that compelled Eliot to pull out his necklace that adorned a tiny Star of David, gripping it tight and praying. At that very moment the answer became as clear as day. "Star!" I cried. "Star," Eliot smiled. "Of course!" Relief washed over his face. "Six points for the Star of David. Five points for the pentagram. One point for the stars in the night sky!" I directed Eliot to the Star tablet and he placed it in the bull's mouth. Nothing happened. Only silence. "Touch the serpent again," I said. He did so and spoke aloud a second riddle. Clearly we would not get our results until all three were answered at once. "The Man inquires: From this seed grew knowledge. From this seed grew life. From this seed grew realms." Eliot and I became more confident of our knack for puzzles. We concluded on the Woman tablet, as the female is the vehicle for life. She brings man into the world who spreads knowledge and builds homes, kingdoms, and realms. Eliot placed the Woman tablet in the mouth of the human head, and placed his hand on the serpent for the last time. "We're so close now," I said. "The Sheep inquires: This beast flies by two winds. On the west wind, it carries away hoards of treasure, and on the east wind brings bountiful harvest." "And there it is," I said with unimaginable glee in my heart. It was so simple: Dragon. "Just a few moments more before the crown is yours and God returns to mankind!" "Which one is it?" Eliot asked. "That one," I pointed. "Dragon. The 'hoards of treasure' line practically gave it away." Eliot joyfully rushed to retrieve the Dragon tablet for the sheep head's mouth. Thinking of dragons reminded me of the simpler times, and the lectures on theology my old professor taught at the university. The dragon of western tradition was a symbol of greed and treacherous lords, hoarding treasures such that it would be of no use to anyone, including the dragon itself. In the eastern tradition, however, the dragon was the bounty of the river and a bringer of good fortune. My mind trailed off to more comparisons between the east and west. The Buddha and the Christ being one and the same, both having eaten from the tree of eternal life. Trees were a very prevalent symbol in cultures around the world, like the world tree, Yggdrasil, of Norse legend. The tree whose branches contain all the realms. "Wait! Stop!" I screamed as Eliot's hand was but inches from the serpents head. "The second riddle is Tree!" In our pride we had nearly ruined our chances of retrieving the crown just as Adam had severed man's connection to God. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?" Eliot asked. "No doubt in my mind," I said. "The tree of realms: Yggdrasil. The tree of life: Bod-hi tree. The tree of knowledge: Garden of Eden." "I wouldn't have guessed," said Eliot. "This is why God brought us together," I said. Eliot replaced the Woman tablet for the Tree tablet in the human mouth. He reached once more for the serpent head, but hesitated. "I'm sure it's correct, I promise you," I said. "I trust you," he said. He clasped his hands together in silent prayer. I kissed my crucifix in response. Finally, like a leap of faith, he firmly pat the serpent head, and no sooner did Asmodeus begin to move. We were taken aback at first, thinking we failed, until a passageway revealed itself behind the statue. I helped Eliot to his feet and we both leaped in joy and hugged each other tightly. The way was open, and once more, the tunnels began to brighten, like God himself was illuminating the way for my humble, mortal eyes. As we entered, Eliot paused to find two messages above artifacts on either side of us. To the right was a dagger, and the message was clear of any prose or obfuscation. "With the Dagger of Abraham, you will slay Nehushtan, the disobedient servant of God," said Eliot. I didn't want to believe it, that the great Serpent of Stygia was real, or even the very same Nehushtan worshiped by the snake cult as a false god. "We could be walking to our deaths, Eliot," I said. "If this monstrous serpent is real, it could be the fight of our lives." "Look here," said Eliot, pointing to the opposite wall. There was a tall, staff in the shape of a straightened wooden serpent. "With the Staff of Moses, shed the dead flesh and reawaken by the glory of God," he said. "This is the staff that Moses transformed into a snake before King Ramses' eyes!" "It's a healing staff," said Eliot. "I am meant to die so that you will resurrect me." I looked at Eliot with deep concern. "You were right, that God had brought us together," he said with a hand on my shoulder. Eliot took the dagger, and I the staff. We steadfastly marched to the final door at the end of the passageway that could only lead to Nehushtan, our final test. I opened the door and a waft of foul air invaded the hallowed hall we still remained in. It was darker than the room of Asmodeus. Darker even perhaps than the labyrinth, only this time my flashlight functioned properly. We tread carefully inside with Eliot taking the lead, me providing the light in finding our enemy. There was a subtle skittering sound and Eliot proceeded to follow it. I trailed close behind him, ensuring his path was lit. We stopped dead at the sight of a single, scaly bronze tail. I slowly scanned along the tail to find where it may have ended. At last, I found a massive coil, the serpent reaching nearly eighty feet in length. This was truly a beast out of legend; a freak of nature. I signaled Eliot that I was ready to play my part. He crept silently upon the sleeping serpent. My flashlight shone hundreds of skittering bugs on the ground that also fearlessly crawled around Nahushtan. Eliot was careful to avoid crushing the bugs when he could, not to disrupt the constant sound that lulled Nahushtan to sleep. Eliot was wild-eyed when he was arms length from the coil. He raised the dagger high, and with every ounce of strength he could muster, plunged the dagger directly into Nahushtan's flesh. Everything was still. The coil didn't even flinch. He stabbed it once more, and still nothing. Eliot looked back at me, but I was as perplexed as he was. He proceeded to rip a hole in the serpent's flesh and immediately, hundreds of the insects came skittering out of the muscle tissue. Nahushtan was long dead, but apparently not long enough for the scavengers to decompose the body. It may have died as early as mere weeks ago. Eliot, not sure what to do, looked at me again. I stood up at ease. "It's dead," I said. Eliot turned quickly back at Nahushtan for fear it might jump out and strike at the source of the sound, but it was indeed well and truly dead. He also stood up, relaxing somewhat. "Let's get the crown," I reminded him. "God is merciful and allowed Nahushtan to die in peace before we arrived." Coming around the other side, I shined the flashlight on Nahushtan's head. His eyes were pale and milky, flesh being eaten away by the millions of tiny bugs. They hardly paid us any mind, as they had yet to finish their snake buffet. "Here it is," said Eliot, pointing to the sarcophagus behind the giant corpse. "No more riddles? No more messages or tests?" I asked. "No," he said. "Just a stone slab between us and Adam." We hurriedly pushed on the lid and slid the sarcophagus open, revealing a surprisingly well preserved mummified Adam. Even more resplendent was the unblemished bronze circlet that adorned his head. This was the crown we had strove so hard to find, and it was there before our very eyes. "Take it," I said. "It's yours, just be careful, yeah?" Eliot placed his hands on the crown and the room filled with light. As bright as any modern civilized living room. The insects scattered from Nahushtan's corpse. Eliot ever so carefully removed the crown from Adam's head and the circlet remained intact. We had done it. It was flawless. Turning to make our way back to the surface, we stopped short as Nahushtan's head began to move. "The dagger, Eliot!" I warned. Perhaps we were prideful still to think the test was over. It turned out to be far different than we expected. Still fallen on the floor, Nahushtan's mouth opened, but something was crawling out from it: A gelatinous form with thousands of tiny quivering legs shifted its way out of the serpent's throat. In the light, there was no mistaking the completely alien horror that stood before us. Some abominable amalgamation of a snail and centipede. It stood erect, towering seven feet above us. This sluggish body, complete with short, digging mandibles and black carapaces lining its back seemed to drip down two stalks from its chin. The stalks opened to strange, unearthly looking eyes that examined both of us. "Kill it! For God's sake, kill it!" I screamed. Eliot couldn't move. Paralyzed by the monster's gaze. I quickly grabbed the crown and motioned Eliot to leave. He remained transfixed. The creature twitched its mandibles, gurgling in a sandy tone that vaguely resembled maniacal chuckling. I grabbed Eliot by the hand. "Come on!" We ran, or rather, I ran, dragging a dazed Eliot behind me. The passageways were beginning to dim. At last we came to the labyrinth. "Alright, Eliot, I really need you right now. We can't leave without your help!" Eliot looked at the ancient bones around the threshold to the labyrinth. He began to giggle. "They couldn't find a way out!" Eliot laughed. "Go!" I yelled. "Follow the trail!" I pushed him into the labyrinth through the only path available thus far. "Trail?" Eliot asked, looking down at the floor. He let out a hard, throaty laugh. We made our way as far as we could, before the darkness made it impossible to see in front of us. There was nothing left for me to do but sit Eliot down in the dead end we found ourselves in. "Remember why we came here," I said, placing the crown in his hands. "We have it! You have it! All we need to do is reach the surface!" "Just a stone slab between us and Adam," Eliot said softly. I heard a deft metallic snap just after he finished. "Oops," he said, then giggled maniacally. He placed the crown back in my hands, two broken pieces in each hand. I was speechless. No words, no rage, no sorrow; only disbelief. Eliot murmured something in a language I had never heard before. Nothing I had ever heard on God's green Earth compared to the syllables and noises produced from his mouth. "Qirryc czarassss qirryc! Vvouranickt djeeriin! Talaaths niirickt bitetinit!" Before we were utterly consumed in darkness, the last thing I saw was the crazed look in his eyes. "Gods feasting on gods!" he said. "He revealed the cosmos! The holy spirit was severed from my eyes!" I slumped down, in the horrid realization that we were trapped forever. "Hissth, Chirr-Rifthit! Hissth, hissth!" Category:Lovecraftian Category:Places